


Still Unbroken

by flightoftheseraph



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Gen, Gender Dysphoria, Pre-Canon, Pre-Stanford Era (Supernatural), Sam Winchester Leaves for Stanford, Trans Male Sam Winchester, Trans Sam Winchester
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-17
Updated: 2019-04-17
Packaged: 2020-01-07 15:15:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,843
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18413255
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/flightoftheseraph/pseuds/flightoftheseraph
Summary: Sam finally leaves to live the life he wants to live and he finally gets to truly be himself.(Written for the Sam Winchester Zine 2019)





	Still Unbroken

**Author's Note:**

> This is a bit late but I am finally posting my submission for the Sam Winchester Zine 2019 💜 I was honoured to be included in a wonderful zine full of great and talented creators [(you can view the entire zine for free here)](https://samwinchesterzine.tumblr.com/post/183316167383/you-read-that-right-the-wait-is-finally-over-the)
> 
> The title is from Still Unbroken by Lynyrd Skynyrd.
> 
> Edit: I completely forgot to add a summary when I posted this my bad (oooopps) I've added one now!

The gas station lights are bright in Sam's vision. Wind whistles by him as he walks along the dirt road. He's high on adrenaline, his arms and legs shaking. He’s joyous to be free, finally, and on his own. His left pocket is heavy with the letter he's far too anxious to pull out and read. Sam doesn’t have much on him. He has the clothes he could fit in a duffel bag after his father kicked him out, along with his computer, cellphone, and the shoes he was wearing. He also managed to take a good silver hunting knife, some salt, and EMF reader, just in case. A little bell above the door lets out a _ding_ as he enters the gas station. In two long strides, Sam’s at the pharmaceutical aisle, and he stops to grab a men's deodorant and body wash. He stares at the label for a moment, smiling. He can buy what he wants, for once. It feels like he’s on cloud nine, like it’s Christmas and his birthday all at once. 

Sam grabs as many snacks and drinks as he can carry in his arms. He's _so_ hungry. The last hunt had drained him, and he hadn’t had a proper meal—one _not_ from a gas station—in what felt like forever.

Despite Sam’s disheveled appearance, the clerk pays him no mind when Sam comes up to the counter. The clerk quickly scans the items and bags them, clearly eager to get back to the game on his phone. It’s a tad impolite, but at least he’s not questioning Sam. He pays, and leaves, headed to the motel he's found across town. It's a long walk, but he’ll take any opportunity to save money. 

Sam knew tensions had been building for quite some time. He’d prepared a contingency plan if anything went wrong quickly. No matter what city they were in he looked up three-stared motels to stay in and how to get there. He was just holding out until he got his letter. Then, several days ago, he checked his email, and there it was. He knew it was time.

The motel is in sight and Sam grins, happy after this entire stressful past few days to have a comfortable place to rest for the night. 

~~~

Sam shuts the motel door with a soft click. His stomach is filled with thousand of fluttering butterflies. This is his first time in a motel room all alone, paid with his own credit card with his own name. His _real_ name. He looked up a half decent motel room, one with comfortable sheets and a complimentary breakfast. 

Sam places his duffel next to the his bed, his own bed, then lays down and takes a deep breath, in and out. The reality of the past few days hasn’t yet hit him. 

He's been on his own for three days and already there's hope blossoming in his chest. The loneliness and the fear that had made its home there for so long is beginning to break apart. Like dark and inky storm clouds finally beginning to clear. 

Sam lays there for another moment, his hands still where they’re crossed over his chest. He should sleep, but also he knows that his anxiety is too high to bother resting. He reaches over and picks up his bag and digs through it until he finds all the things he needs. 

The bathroom is blanche with a white marble counter and a full tub and bathroom. Sam’s eyes flick over it in awe for a moment, before his attention is snagged by the sight of his face in the mirror. Although there’s not much stubble, he’s still proud of it. He also cut his hair in the last motel he'd stayed at, and it’s still a little all over the place, but after a shower it should settle down. 

He smiles a bit, watching the curve of his mouth lift up, then pulls out his small bag of toiletries. There’s a razor, a blue one, and toothpaste and a toothbrush, and a clutter of Superman-themed Band-Aids for emergencies.

Before John kicked him out, Sam had also been able to get his testosterone prescription and more supplies for his shots. He’d carefully planned everything out, so despite being on limited funds, everything was working out perfectly. 

The water pressure is unlike any motel he's even been in, and succeeds in relaxing his sore muscles. He lathers his hair with shampoo and the scent fills his heart with a sense of hope and euphoria. The scent is rich and powerful and completely unlike anything John would allow him to buy. 

He gets out of the shower, a towel wrapped around his body, and combs gel through his hair with his hands. The smell surrounds him and fills the washroom as Sam dresses in his new t-shirt and sweatpants. 

Not long after, Sam falls asleep in the heavy sheets. He dreams peacefully of nothing. It’s the first time in a long time.

~~~~

His meager belongings become two backpacks after another trip to a local mall to get some more clothes to wear. The next stop is a bus stop that will take him a good portion of the way to California. It’ll cost most of his money to get there, but it’ll be worth it.

It’s seven in the morning. His stomach is growling, but he’d been too nervous to eat, so instead he’s nursing a coffee. He looks around the small bus station. There's a couple travellers looking weary and tired, but the station is small and quaint. It's comforting.

He packed up his room and checked out early, just in case. The hotel's lobby was just a lush as the room he stayed in. A place both John and Dean would gawk at.

A very kind women behind the desk had showed him to the complimentary breakfast. Her voice was soft as she referred to Sam as "sir.” Sam had beamed and whispered a soft thank you as he grabs plate.

He scarfed down eggs that were which nothing like the gas station quality he was used too. He ate actual bacon and orange juice that was sweet on his tongue. Starting testosterone had made Sam hungrier than he normal was. He usually sought out healthier foods, as they were a rarity, and it was nice to take care of himself. It somehow made him feel like he was committing a small act of rebellion.

He grabs his belongings and begin his trek to the bus station which is thankfully shorter than his walk to the hotel. It only takes ten minutes or so and the morning is not too cool. 

The bus ride is serene. Sam's eyelids become heavy as they reach the interstate. There are several stops on the way, but this is the longest time he's had to sleep and his exhaustion has outlasted his nerves.

He shows the driver his ticket, and the driver hardly looks at it before moving on. It says Samuel, instead of his birth name. It had been so many hurdles to get his name changed in time to apply for Stanford but the hard work and stress has more than paid off. Reading his old name usually filled him with dread; reading it now provides him with a sense of joy and belonging.

Sam awakes to them switching buses. It’s night, and frigid and chilling. It feels somewhat isolating, like he's alone in the universe despite being surrounded by other tired travellers. His homemade binder hugs his chest as Sam clutches his new clothes in one duffel in one hand and his other bag in the other. 

The next bus ride is just as lonely. Sam can't recall the last ride he took anywhere that wasn't in the Impala. He misses it, but it's bittersweet. As they drive out of an unknown town, sleep finds him again.

~~~

With every bus stop and new destination, Sam stands prouder. He clutches his acceptance letter like a lifeline in an open sea. He's been paying with cash this entire trip. It’s from playing pool and small, part-time jobs in cities they all stayed at too long. Eventually, he finally had enough, and with a full scholarship he has less money to worry about once he gets to California. 

Sam arrives in California in the early morning, The sky is aflame with the sunrise as students mill about. Palo Alto is busy and chaotic, so unlike the atmosphere he’s used to. Hunts were always a simmering, controlled chaos, but with the addition of an ever-present emptiness and hollowness; a loneliness he can't quite describe. It's almost like the Sam who used to hunt is a stranger, one he’s grown further from as the distance between them grows.

He finds at a small diner near campus. It's bustling with college students, some he's sure go to Stanford, some that might be his future classmates. Sam is too shy to introduce himself.

Sam sips a smoothie in a corner by himself, taping his hand on the table, his leg bouncing up and down. He picked up a few items for his dorm address: a red sweater that hides his chest well, and new ID’s. 

Before, Sam had been cold despite the California weather, but the sweater is soft and warm. He admiries the ID’s, flickering them back and forth in the fingers of his free hand. He thinks his student ID is his favorite.

"Do you need anything else, sir?" A waitress asks, and his head snaps up. She’s a bit older, and has kind eyes. Sam swallows roughly instead of speaking, too flustered at being referred to as “sir.” It fills his chest with euphoria and happiness.

"Um… no I'm okay… thank you," he says. His voice has deepened a little in the recent weeks, and he likes that development, but sometimes his confidence still fails him, and so he prefers not to speak. He clears his throat and attempts a sweet smile. The waitress returns the smile before turning and leaving. 

Sam rubs his hand over the bold lettering of the sweater, as a comfort and a reassurance. This is _real_ , even though it seems to good to be true. He always feels like this is a dream, and he’ll wake to Dean standing at the foot of his bed, a gun in his hands to ward off monsters; a life he doesn’t want to lead. This is _rea_ l, even though it doesn’t seem that way. 

He opens his letter to reread the words, he knows them by heart. Despite what the rest of the letter contains, the two most important words are right at the top of the letter.

_Samuel Winchester._

Sam smiles softly to himself as he folds the letter and puts it back in his pocket. There’s no more hiding or sneaking around who he truly his. Now the second part of his life begins and for once he’s not afraid to embark on it.

 


End file.
